One Collection of One-Shots
by Elmie
Summary: I thought it'd be easier to put all of my one-shots in the same place, so here it is! One place for me to post any one-shots that I write or have written or plan on writing in the future.
1. Broken Cinders

**AN: Hi there. This is a place for me to post and keep track of any one-shots that I write. Writing one-shots sometimes helps me get over writer's block, or sometimes I just feel bored and want to write one. So feel free to read them if you'd like, and if you want to review and give me some feedback, feel free to do that too. ****This might not be updated very often, but who knows ~**

**Here's the first one, titled _Broken Cinders_. There's more info about it in the author's note at the bottom of the page.**

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Yesterday's downpour had continued through the night and into the morning, leaving a dreary air hanging over the ThunderClan camp. Heavy, gray clouds clustered in the sky, and a bone-chilling breeze swept through the damp forest, drifting the rain sideways with each gust. Cinderpaw sighed. Fireheart had given her and Brackenpaw a day's rest from training, and the two apprentices sat in the entrance to their den, taking in the solemn leaf-bare morning.

_We never do anything_, Cinderpaw thought in frustration as she watched her mentor cross through the rain towards Bluestar's den. Fireheart had been very busy recently, but she couldn't understand why. It seemed like all he ever did was strut around and speak to other cats, particularly to Graystripe.

At the thought of Graystripe, Cinderpaw glanced towards her brother. She felt a prickle of sadness for him; Graystripe was Brackenpaw's mentor, but lately he had been too busy to train him. So Fireheart took on the responsibility of training both Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw, while Graystripe was off doing StarClan knows what.

A gust of wind swayed the leafless branches of the ash trees around camp. She watched with a blank expression. The dark branches danced through the rain, silhouetted by the dull, gray mass of cloud behind them. Besides the branches, there was little to see in the sky - just the dull, gray clouds.

She set her head on her paws and let her mind wander. The ugly gray sky reflected her mood. Dull and lifeless, thick and unwanted; stuck somewhere between black and white. Waiting for the day when the clouds would part and she would finally have a chance to become something more, to become a warrior.

Cinderpaw was yanked out of her thoughts as a flash of white darted out of the leader's den. It was her mother, Frostfur. The white-furred queen glanced around, eyes wide, then darted into the medicine cat's den in no more than a few heartbeats.

_What in StarClan?_ Cinderpaw lifted her head in surprise. Was something wrong? She knew Bluestar was sick, but it didn't seem too serious. _Then again, I'm not a medicine cat. How should I know if she's alright?_ Sitting upright, she watched as Frostfur exited the medicine cat's den with Yellowfang close behind. She strained her ears, desperate to overhear something.

Fireheart approached them. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Frostfur paused. "Bluestar has Greencough," she said in a small voice. She then muttered something that Cinderpaw did not catch. A shocked expression crossed the Fireheart's face. Frostfur and Yellowfang disappeared into the leader's den.

_Greencough?_ Cinderpaw had heard stories of the terrible illness. She gulped, trying not to imagine Bluestar losing a life. _How many lives does she have left?_ Cinderpaw looked at her brother, hoping to ask him, but Brackenpaw had fallen asleep beside her.

She turned back around and watched Fireheart with interest, waiting for something else to happen. The orange tabby sat alone outside Bluestar's den, holding very still in the rain. Frostfur and Yellowfang had not reappeared.

Cinderpaw waited. She waited for a cat to emerge from a den, for Fireheart to move, for her brother to wake up. But the world became dull once again. Many moments passed, and after what felt like hours, she finally gave up. She lay back down and set her head on her paws, feeling boredom take its hold on her once again.

_Oh well_, she thought to herself. _I guess it's just a -_

With a yowl, something brown shot through the camp entrance. Cinderpaw whipped her head up to see Dustpaw, one of the older apprentices. There was a serious look in his eyes, and his fur was ruffled as if he had just ran a long distance. He darted towards Fireheart, and skidded to a halt less than a mouse-length away from him. Cinderpaw felt her heartbeat quicken, glad that something else was happening.

"I have a message for Bluestar," Dustpaw panted. He looked Fireheart up and down, curling his lip as he did so.

"She's sick, you can't go in," Fireheart said cooly.

Dustpaw flicked his tail with impatience and his voice dropped to a whisper. Cinderpaw couldn't hear what was being said, but both cats unsheathed their claws and flattened their ears.

Yellowfang emerged from the den behind them and rasped, "Fireheart is right." Dustpaw then whispered something to Yellowfang.

By now, all three cats had lowered their voices so that Cinderpaw could no longer hear what was being said. Excitement coursed through her as she realized something was _definitely_ happening. Something urgent. She leaped to her paws and scurried over to the other cats, her eyes shining.

She reached them just in time to hear Yellowfang snap, "Tigerclaw will have to deal with it on his own."

"Deal with what on his own?" she asked. Fireheart flicked his tail to silence her. The other cats payed no attention, and continued with their discussion.

"ShadowClan could already be in our territory by now!" Dustpaw hissed.

Cinderpaw felt her eyes widen. ShadowClan cats in ThunderClan territory? _How dare they! Those stupid, ugly mousebrains._

Yellowfang's lip curled at Dustpelt. "Fireheart is leaving to fetch catmint and Whitestorm is patrolling SunningRocks. We can't risk sending out more cats, especially not sick ones. If ShadowClan is in our territory, they could attack at any moment!"

Dustpaw's fur prickled. "But Tigerclaw said he wanted Bluestar to see the evidence! They've left remains of freshkill on our side of the Thunderpath!"

"He needs to be told that she can't come," Firestar growled. "I'll take the message to him once I've fetched the catmint. Where is he?"

Dustpaw hesitated, obviously reluctant to tell Fireheart. "Beside the burnt ash tree that hangs over the Thunderpath," he grumbled.

Yellowfang turned towards Fireheart. "Well? What are you waiting for?" she growled. "Go! Quickly!"

At the old medicine cat's words, Fireheart blazed away towards the camp entrance. Cinderpaw instantly followed. She sprinted as fast as she could, but her short legs couldn't carry her as fast as Fireheart was moving.

"Fireheart, wait!" she called.

He didn't slow down or look back. "Go back to your den Cinderpaw!" He was almost to the fern tunnel now.

"But I can deliver the message while you get the catmint!" she meowed. Didn't Fireheart understand? This was the _perfect_ task for a responsible apprentice like herself.

Now Fireheart came to an abrupt halt. Trying not to crash into his hindquarters, she turned her body sideways and attempted to slow herself down. It didn't work - she stumbled over her own clumsy paws and landed on the wet ground in an ungraceful heap beside her mentor.

Fireheart turned around and looked down at his apprentice. Her thick gray fur puffed out in all directions and her small body lay in a crumpled mound, giving her the appearance of a fluffy raincloud that had fallen to the ground.

He shook his head in exasperation. "Cinderpaw, if there are any ShadowClan warriors in our territory, then you need to stay in camp. Go back to your den."

Before she could respond, he raced out of camp.

She got to her feet and smoothed down a tuft of fur with a quick lick of her chest. _Great. Way to make a complete furball of yourself Cinderpaw_, she told herself. Her skin felt hot beneath her fur. She imagined she must have looked ridiculous tumbling over her own paws like that. _I probably looked pathetic._

She certainly _felt_ pathetic. A fallen little cloud - broken, unwanted. Left in a crumpled heap on the ground. Didn't Fireheart trust her enough to deliver a simple message? Her own mentor, telling her to stay at camp and be useless. Why couldn't he see how eager, how prepared she was? _Why does he never notice me?_ His words echoed through her mind._ ...You need to stay in camp... _

For a moment, she really considered staying. But then her thoughts began to churn. _I could make a difference... I could save our Clan from invaders! Then Fireheart will have to notice me!_ When would she get another oppurtunity like this? Probably never. Besides, there was no way Fireheart would be able to tell Tigerclaw in time, and ShadowClan could attack at any moment. It was important that Tigerclaw was at camp protecting his Clan, not waititng at the Thunderpath for a leader who would never appear. She had to go. She would make Fireheart proud.

Without attracting any attention to herself, she slipped out the camp's fern tunnel entrance and started through the forest towards the Thunderpath. Excitement coursed through her veins and her eyes were wide with delight. She would prove herself. Maybe Bluestar would even make her a warrior. But a little morsel of doubt still nibbled at her mind._ Maybe Fireheart will be mad? _

She quickly brushed the thought away. _No. He'll thank me later._

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**AN: Originally this was a prologue. I had a story idea of Fireheart dying in place of Cinderpaw breaking her leg. Then Cinderpaw got to be a warrior, but she had to sort of take Fireheart's place and stop Tigerclaw's madness. Technically "fire" still saved the Clan, because Fireheart pushed Cinderpaw out of the monster's way and saved her life, then she saved the Clan, and...**

**Anyway. Like most of my story attempts, this one failed miserably. I realized it was just not going to work out and I didn't really want to write it because it was very boring. I'm not particularly proud or impressed with this, but it works just fine as a one-shot. And since I already had this written, I thought I might as well post it :3**


	2. Death is Not the End

_"You think the dead we loved truly ever leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly in times of great trouble?"_

~Albus Dumbledore

**This is my entry for the June writing challenge for WillowClan. Enjoy :)**

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_He could smell the blood in the air, thick and heavy. The bitter stench wafted towards his nose, choking out all scents of life and tightening his throat, threatening to suffocate him. The world had gone pitch black, and he couldn't see where his stumbling paws were carrying him. _

_Moments later, his paws stopped moving and his body came to an abrupt halt as the wail of a dying cat pierced through the air. He sucked in a deep breath, wishing he could see what was happening around him. His heart began to flutter against his chest, and his stomach twisted itself into knots._

_He spun his head around, panic rising in his throat, and stopped cold as his eyes met the hard, yellow gaze of his nightmare. His fur stood on end as he stared into its face - the face of an angry badger._

_He screeched, leaping backwards and trying desperately to flee from the massive beast. His legs carried him with all the strength that he could muster, but when he looked back over his shoulder, his blood ran cold. The badger was not moving, but its face remained directly behind him, glaring into his skull with fierce intensity. He was running in place._

_He spun around, heart pounding so hard that he felt as if it would crash right through his chest. His gaze raked over the badger, examining every detail in its powerful features. Its fur was ragged, clawed in several places by furious cats. Its gaze was cold and angry, and crimson blood stained its massive paws. He peered around the badger and yowled in horror when he saw the two limp bodies that lay behind the creature. The badger's fur was not stained with just any blood, he realized. It was his mother's blood, his father's blood; his own blood._

_He shrieked once again in terror before the badger opened its wide jaws and clamped down, ending his life with a single bite._

Reedpaw flung his eyes open, gasping for air. An unbearable headache pierced his skull, and it took all the strength he had to stop himself from crying out in pain.

The night was still, and the only noise to be heard was the gentle breathing of cats nearby. Wedged between the other apprentices, his feather-lined nest cradled him in a soft embrace. He was not surrounded by darkness, there was no blood, and his face was not about to be ripped off by an angry badger's teeth. It was just a dream. He forced his prickled fur to lay flat, but his amber eyes remained wide.

J_ust a dream, nothing but a dream._ He repeated this in his mind, but he knew it was more than_ just a dream_. It was a memory. A painful, heart-wrenching memory that haunted him every night he tried to sleep. Even after all these moons, the memory was still fresh in the back of his mind. After their parents were killed, he and his sister were able to escape before the badger reached them. But they never could in his dreams. In his dreams, the badger would kill everyone, stopping at nothing for a chance to taste cat blood on its tongue.

He once again pictured the badger's hard gaze and wide jaws, its huge body leaning forward to bite into his face. A shudder wracked over his body.

He shook his head, trying to push the image away, and immediately winced from the pain that had been brought on by his headache. He narrowed his eyes. _Stop being stupid_, he told himself. _It's just a little pain, and it was just a little dream. Nightmares are for kits, and you are _not_ a kit._

Determined to get some sleep, Reedpaw set his throbbing head on his paws and let the cold silence of the night envelope him once again.

**...**

The first thing Reedpaw felt was a sharp blow to his side. Confusion set in as he snapped his eyes open, lifting his head and prickling his fur. "Huh? What's going on?" he half-shouted.

As he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, his sister's face slowly came into focus. She was standing above him, one paw raised and a mischievous smile stretched across her muzzle. For good measure, she reared up on her hind legs and brought her paws crashing into Reedpaw's flank for the second time.

"Ow!" he hissed. "Stop it Snowpaw! I'm awake!" He stood up, glaring at his sister, and gave his pelt a shake. "What do you want?" he muttered.

Snowpaw, who was obviously amused, was purring as she watched Reedpaw stand up and try to groom down his prickled fur. "Great StarClan," she said playfully, "You sleep more than an elder!" She whisked her tail gently through the air. "It's already sunhigh, you big, lazy furball!"

"I couldn't sleep very well last night," Reedpaw grunted. He narrowed his eyes at her. "I was getting the best sleep I'd had in moons until you so _kindly_ woke me."

Snowpaw's face brightened even more. "Oh, don't be so grumpy, Reedpaw!" She flicked her tail over his ear. "Don't you want to know why I woke you?"

Reedpaw sighed. "Yeah, what is it?"

Her eyes twinkled with excitement, and her tail curled behind her. "The dawn patrol scented WindClan in our territory _again_!" she exclaimed. "Minnowstar is about to announce a Clan meeting about it. And you know what I think? I think we're finally going to attack those mangy, flea-bitten mousebrains!"

Reedpaw felt his eyes widen. A battle against WindClan? That hardly seemed fair. WindClan, who had been having trouble catching prey in their territory, was becoming weaker by the day. Any confrontation with them would be unjustly one-sided.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep!" With that, she spun around and pranced out of the den, leaving Reedpaw alone. He watched as the white tip of her tail disappeared out the den entrance.

With a long stretch of his limbs, Reedpaw followed his sister out into the RiverClan camp. He had to blink a few times for his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight.

Just as Snowpaw had said, Minnowstar looked like she was about to announce a Clan meeting. She leaped onto the old, gnarled stump that used to be a willow tree and turned to address her Clan.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather for a Clan meeting!" she yowled.

Reedpaw watched as his Clanmates began to gather below Minnowstar. He took a seat next to his sister, his fur brushing against her's.

When all of RiverClan had settled themselves, Minnowstar cleared her throat. "As many of you already know," she began, "WindClan has been scented in our territory yet again." A few angry yowls rose from the crowd, but no cat sounded surprised. "Because this is the third time within the past moon, I believe it's time we let WindClan know that this will not be tolerated any longer." She shifted her gaze across the Clan. "Tonight at dusk, we will launch an attack on WindClan."

Reedpaw felt his fur prickle at the words. His sister had been right. Snowpaw, who sat beside him, was nearly trembling with excitement, her eyes wide.

"These are the cats that will be joining the battle: Troutwhisker, Nightfrost, Honeyblaze, Willowbreeze, Dustmask, Blackstorm, Littlesplash, Reedpaw, Snowpaw, and myself, of course."

As soon as his name had been said, Reedpaw felt his heart turn to stone. He couldn't hear over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he was vaguely aware of his sister squealing with excitement at his side. This would be his first battle. A shudder wracked down his spine as he realized it might be his _last_ battle, too. He could end up the same way as his parents - in a bloody heap on the ground.

His heart unfroze and instantly began pounding against his chest, harder than he'd ever felt it before.

"Isn't this great?" squealed Snowpaw. "Maybe if we fight well enough, Minnowstar will even make us warriors!" She leaped to her paws and trotted off. Reedpaw remained glued to the ground, unable to reply or even move.

He was finally snapped out of his thoughts when a deep voice sounded behind him. "Reedpaw?"

He spun around to see his mentor, Blackstorm. All of the other cats had left the Clan meeting, even Minnowstar was no where in sight.

"Reedpaw, I'm so proud of you," rumbled Blackstorm. "Minnowstar chose you for this battle because she knows you're ready." His amber eyes stared into Reedpaw's with intensity.

"O-Oh," was all Reedpaw managed to choke out. He cleared his throat and gave his head a good shake. "Should we practice some battle moves to prepare, or..?"

"Sorry, no time for that. But don't worry, you don't need more time to practice. You're the most prepared apprentice by far." He nodded his head. "Just go do some apprentice duties, okay? Check on the elders."

"Alright," muttered Reedpaw. His eyes were wide with fear. He turned around and strutted across camp, trying to prevent his legs from trembling as he walked. When he reached the brambly entrance to the elder's den, he pushed his way inside.

Inside the den, Graystrike sat with her tail wrapped over her paws. As soon as her eyes met Reedpaw's, a thick frown curled the edges of her muzzle. "Oh great, look who it is," she grumbled, nudging Streampelt with her foot. Streampelt remained sound asleep. "It's that grumpy little Reedpaw," Graystrike continued.

Reedpaw glared at her. "Look, I don't have time to listen to you tell me how irritating I am. Do you want new bedding or not?"

"Ha!" barked Graystrike. "Listen to this little guy." She shook her head in exasperation. "You think your time is more important than mine, don't you?"

Reedpaw bit his tongue, trying to hold back a retort. Graystrike had always seemed to have something against him, but he never could figure out why. He stepped forward, ignoring Graystrike's comment, and began to tug at her old bedding.

"Hey!" snapped Graystrike. "Be careful! I don't want you getting bits of moss all over."

Reedpaw narrowed his eyes and dropped the moss. "Oh shut up!" he snapped, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "I'm joining the battle against WindClan tonight! Show me some respect. For all you know, I could be dead tomorrow morning."

Graystrike seemed unfazed by Reedpaw's remark. She whisked her tail through the air. "Battle against WindClan? That doesn't sound too dangerous. Besides, what's one more dead cat? We'll all die eventually."

Reedpaw felt his anger flare and he flattened his ears. "Shut up you stupid elder! My parents are dead! Do you have respect for anything? I mean look at yourself! You'll be dead soon too! So stop being such a stupid, old fleabag!"

There was a mischievous gleam in Graystrike's eyes, as if she had been trying to set Reedpaw off. She purred, an amused smile stretching over her muzzle. "Is that what you're always so cross about? That your parents are dead?" A chuckle escaped her jaw, which soon escalated into a full, howling laugh. In only a few heartbeats, she was lying on the floor, her sides heaving with laughter.

Reedpaw felt his anger rise even further, and fury coursed through his blood. "How dare you!" he hissed. "Shut your mouth you good-for-nothing, foxhearted elder!" He whipped his tail through the air violently, his ears flat against his head and his eyes narrowed. He unsheathed his claws and continued to glare at her, his blood boiling.

Graystrike stopped laughing and lifted her head. Slowly, she rose to an upright position and sat calmly in front of Reedpaw, her eyes still gleaming with amusement.

"Calm down mousebrain. I'm not laughing because your parents are dead, I'm laughing at how mousebrained you are," she stated matter-of-factly. She lifted a gray paw to her face and began to groom herself by licking the paw with short, rough rasps, then swiping it gently over her ear.

Reedpaw still glared at her, his fur prickling across his spine and his throat clenched tight with anger. He chose not to speak, or rather he couldn't speak, so instead he only let out a single, long hiss.

Graystrike rolled her dull amber eyes and sighed. She dropped her washed paw back to the ground and locked eyes with Reedpaw, her gaze losing all of its amusement and replacing it with firm intensity. "Listen to me," she said. "I was just kidding around. Don't you know that death isn't really the end? You think our dead kin ever truly leave us? Your parents were strong cats... You couldn't get rid of those two furballs even if you tried. Your mother and father live on inside you and your sister."

She paused to see if Reedpaw had anything to say, but the brown tabby remained silent, his fur still prickled across his spine.

"It's true. I see them in you all the time. Your father's fierce eyes and his kind heart. Your mother's thick fur and quick temper." She eyed Pinepaw up and down and snorted before saying, "Yep, definitely her temper. More than anything, your mother's fiery temper."

She went back to washing her paw.

Reedpaw, who still hadn't spoken a word, was still glaring and Graystrike, but his eyes no longer held the same rage. "My.. My parents are dead," was all he managed to choke out.

"So? They died to save you and your sister. Sure, maybe you can't see them, but your parents are right here with us. They're within _you_. You'll never be without them. And tonight, when you need them, when you really, truly, need them, they will show themselves and fight right alongside you." She flicked her tail at him. "Now stop acting like a whiny little kit," she grumbled. "It's irritating."

Reedpaw stared at her, his mouth agape. She was just _joking_ _around?_ What an insensitive fleabag! He felt as if he should be angry at her, but no anger prickled his pelt. In fact, he felt unusually calm. It dawned on him that Graystrike was right - he did have his father's eyes and his mother's temper. He did have his mother's thick, brown fur and his father's kind heart. And they did live on inside him and his sister.

Reedpaw didn't say another word to Graystrike, even when she continued to snap at him as he changed her bedding. A feeling of security wrapped around him, and he hadn't felt as content and calm as this in a long time.

**...**

By the time dusk arrived, Reedpaw didn't feel any nerves over the coming battle. As the battle patrol stepped across the RiverClan border and into WindClan territory, a strange sense of peace flowed through him, leaving him feeling light and airy.

The air was thick and tense, but no fears nibbled at his thoughts. Graystrike's words echoed thought his head once again. _And when you need them, when you really, truly, need them, they will show themselves and fight right alongside you._ A slow smile stretched over his muzzle, something that hadn't happened in a long time.

He flexed his claws, feeling a newfound sense of power rush through his veins as adrenaline. Tonight, and every night onward, he wasn't fighting his battles alone. When he came across his first enemy, he knew his parents would be right there beside him. Tonight, he fought with his parents, and his sister, and with every cat whose blood coursed through his own veins, dead or alive. He was fighting with them, and more importantly, he was fighting for them. After all, the dead we loved never truly leave us.

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**AN: Ta-da! This is my first**** WillowClan Monthly Writing Challenge, so I hope it was okay. Please review and tell me how I did! :3**


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